


burn (it's always the best promises that are made to be broken)

by r0uen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Fire, Implied/Referenced Sex, Living Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0uen/pseuds/r0uen
Summary: akaashi keiji is only good at being selfish and tearing relationships apart. he can only cope with burnt letters and gray bedsheets.(based on my interpretation of "burn" from hamilton)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	burn (it's always the best promises that are made to be broken)

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN.... this was gonna be like 900 words long but then it turned into this.... i have kuroaka brainrot rn.  
> major kudos to my beta reader sonia! they were super helpful and their comments made me laugh SO HARD.  
> this fic does deal with some sensitive subjects, so i would like to say i am not trying to romanticize anything portrayed here! this fic was kinda a way to express the confusing emotions i'm feeling right now.  
> lastly, to all my beautiful readers- i love you all and i hope you enjoy this foray into a topic and writing style that's a bit different from my norm. <3

Akaashi's most prized possession had become his most hated one in a matter of seconds. 

It's all Kuroo's fault. 

Kuroo, the love of his life, the high-school sweetheart that was just too good to be true, the man he was going to marry. The world made sense when Akaashi was with him, like it shifted into place the second they grasped hands. 

Every night, Kuroo would hold him tight, arms wrapped around Akaashi's back as one hand stroked his hair. "I'm yours," he would mumble. 

And when people would flirt with him at the bar they frequented, he would raise their jointed hands and say "I'm his." 

The first time they made love, wandering hands and stumbling mouths in the dead of night, Kuroo had said "I'm yours," right as Akaashi reached a type of pleasure he had yet to know. 

The last time they made love he had done the same thing, lips forming "I'm yours," into Akaashi's neck as he fell apart. 

"I'm yours," as Akaashi cried in his lap, insecurities burning as they dripped down his cheeks. 

"I'm yours," when Akaashi had gripped him tight in the middle of the night from nightmares depicting his boyfriend being ripped apart by faceless monsters. 

"I'm yours," with a loving glance and a wide smile when he slipped a silver ring onto Akaashi's finger, while Akaashi was too overwhelmed with love to move. 

"I'm yours. Forever now." 

Forever came quicker than Akaashi could have ever imagined, and he finds himself in their bedroom with letters in hand. 

Letters from Kuroo. 

Akaashi has always communicated better while writing, allowing himself to unleash his emotions and express them through metaphor and verse. Kuroo had indulged him, and they exchanged letters every week. At first, Akaashi had thought it was kind of strange. 

He began to look forward to the letters after only a month. 

Eventually, they exchanged numbers as well. 

Thier exchange of letters had never stopped. 

Kuroo had confessed through a letter. 

Akaashi had been a blushing mess while he read it, and he gave Kuroo his confession letter in person and watched as his face morphed into the brightest smile Akaashi has even seen. 

They planned their dates through letters. Kuroo had called him Keiji for the first time through a letter (it took him another month to work up the nerve to call him that in person). Akaashi told Kuroo he loved him the first time through a letter. 

They gave each other letters about random thoughts and memories and aspirations, and would write each other letters in their classes to send later. They would exchange letters in their apartment, cuddling together on the couch as they read.

Kuroo had given Akaashi a letter after he proposed, going into detail about the things he loved about Akaashi and how much he treasured him. It was sappy and dramatic and five pages long, and Akaashi had never cried harder. 

Looking at the same letter four months later, Akaashi can't force himself to tear up. He rereads a single line over and over again- "I can't wait to be Akaashi Testurou"- and imagines what his life would be like if Kuroo had never wrote this letter. He probably would have been happier. 

Akaashi decides this has to be the letter he burns first. 

He lifts the lighter slowly (Kuroo had bought it a few months after they first moved into their apartment, claiming it was the same color as Akaashi's eyes) and flicks it on. He brushes his fingers over the flame, feeling nothing. 

He misses Kuroo's warmth. The room feels so empty without him, hugging Akaashi from behind or draping himself over a chair. 

He lowers the paper slowly, making sure only the first page catches fire. It crumbles in on itself, worn parchment fading into ash and curls of gray smoke, flames licking up the slides of the pages until the only thing left is the jealousy, bright and burning, curling up in Akaashi's chest. 

One page down. Infinite unforgettable memories left to burn. 

Maybe Akaashi wouldn't feel the need for destruction if things had happened differently. Maybe there's another Keiji out there, still happy and cuddled up with his Testurou on the couch. Maybe that Keiji had a faithful boyfriend. 

He lifts the lighter again and watches the second page burn, watching flames destroy the home Kuroo had built for them in his words, watching the little doodles of their future selves turn to ash. This time, the next three pages burn in harmony. 

The last page remains, hanging harmlessly in hands. 

This was the page that made him tear up the most. Kuroo promised to be his- for infinity, for as long as Akaashi wanted him. He said that he wanted to grow old together and couldn't imagine anyone else by his side. He said he's wanted to marry Akaashi since the day they met. 

He signed off with "Akaashi Testurou", a name he will never now have. 

He crumpled the paper, tearing it to shreds, watching the grand towers he had written come tumbling down. Then, he burns each shred, feeling the smoke bend around the grooves in his face. 

He saves the piece with "Akaashi Testurou" for last.

He can't bring himself to burn it. 

He fiddles with the lighter, hands shaking, desperately trying to flick it on. There's a noose around his heart, and he doesn't know how to burn that too. It's tightening, slowly but surely, and Akaashi wants to rip his chest out. 

The lighter still won't light, and he drops the paper to fiddle with the lighter, desperate for the flame. For the lingering warmth that comes with it. He's reaching, desperately, for someone that's not there, for someone that will never be there again. 

He falls back onto the dark hardwood floor and finally lets himself cry.

The tears sting, in the way tears too when you've been trying not to free them. They’re freeing all the same, and they fall faster than Akaashi would like to admit. 

Maybe he wouldn't have reacted as badly if Kuroo had at least admitted outright that he cheated, all those months ago. It was only once, and it was only sex, so Akaashi wouldn't have even been too mad about it. 

Instead, Kuroo kept it inside, in the way he does with everything. Akaashi could tell something was up- he chalked it up to stress caused by Kuroo's recent promotion at work. 

There also was something a bit different in the way Kuroo whispered "I'm yours" lately. 

Akaashi had foolishly concluded it was because of their engagement, thinking maybe the meaning changed for Kuroo because they'll be together forever now. 

The meaning had changed because, for one night too long, Kuroo wasn't his. 

Eventually, Kuroo had told Bokuto, likely because of the amount of guilt he had been carrying. Bokuto had told Akaashi over the phone immediately, talking about how Kuroo had come to him, crying over how he had been unfaithful. Bokuto had explained how he was trying to comfort Kuroo, but it was wrong if Akaashi didn't know that Kuroo had cheated on him since Akaashi was his friend too. 

Akaashi's world had shattered. 

This must be his fault. Was he not satisfying Kuroo enough sexually? Was Kuroo bored of him? Was he not interesting enough? 

Akaashi was always afraid Kuroo would leave him. Kuroo is dynamic, growing and changing and evolving. Akaashi is static, ever the same beside him. 

It's simply natural selection. 

Akaashi wonders if he could have been better for Kuroo. Maybe then he wouldn't resort to burning letters in cold bedrooms, searching for warmth to replace the boy he loves. 

Kuroo's letters were always written like he was running out of time, like one day Akaashi would wake up alone. This was only natural progression, wasn't it? Kuroo gets bored, breaks up with him, finds a better lover and gets to live in a white house with a picket fence and two kids. Akaashi ends up alone, like he always does, with only memories to fill the space in the bed beside him. 

Slowly, he climbs onto the bed, desperate to escape the burning cold of the floor. He curls up on Kuroo's side of the bed, hugging himself as if he can make himself warm. 

He's cold even after pulling the blankets up to his chest, an iciness that comes from inside of him. 

He turns his head to rest it on Kuroo's pillow, letting the smell of fresh laundry and lavender deodorant wash over him. Kuroo always smells like home, a home he can't go back to anymore, and Akaashi cries harder. 

He isn't sure how long he stays there, clinging onto a scent that won't be his for much longer.

Eventually, the bed dips beside him. 

He looks up, expecting to see one of their cats. 

He is greeted with Kuroo. 

Kuroo, the man who he has loved since 16, the person who makes him whole, the one who reminds him why life is worth living. 

Testurou. 

He's disheveled, eyeliner smudged with tears and lips drawn into a tight frown. 

Akaashi wants to kiss away his sour expression, but he doesn't know if that's allowed anymore. 

"Keiji," Kuroo murmurs, voice despondent and broken. "I'm so sorry, Keiji." He wraps his arms around Akaashi, holding him like the way you try to embrace the breeze on too-hot days. Akaashi mindlessly burrows into the warmth, pleading his heart to to thaw. 

His tears are still flowing. He feels nothing. Not sadness, not anger, not quiet resignation. 

He is numb, and words are drying up on his tongue. 

"Testu.... I just."

Kuroo tilts up Akaashi's head from where it was resting on his chest, and their eyes meet. He's still frowning, teary-eyed in a quiet way. 

Akaashi hates it when Testurou cries. He wants to kiss him again, wants to press their lips together until it's the only thing either of them can think about. It would be avoidanc- the thing he's best at. 

"Keiji. I know nothing I say will make this better. Say whatever's on your mind. I can handle it." Testurou chokes up by the end of his sentence, and Akaashi can feel the way his heart starts beating faster. 

Tetsu is scared. Scared of him. Scared of what he's going to do. 

It hurts more than it should. 

"Just... why? Why would you do that to us?" Akaashi's voice is cracking, and he can feel tears continuing to roll down his cheeks. 

He's less numb than he thought. He cares more than he thought. 

"I.... I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"How do you not know?" Akaashi sits up, watching as Kuroo's arms slip out from around him, watching as Kuroo breaks. "How do you not know why you cheated?" 

From his edge of the bed, he finally gets a good look at Kuroo. He's still in his work clothes, white button up crumpled and tie haphazardly hanging from around his neck. His hair is even more of a mess than it usually is, hanging limp in front of his face the way it does when he’s ran his hands through it too many times. He’s staring right at Akaashi, hands fisting in the mattress like he's trying not to reach out for him, and Akaashi’s heart is on fire in the worst way. 

“Keiji, I-” Kuroo sobs, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to, I promise. We went out for drinks after a meeting at work, and she… she kept saying all these horrible things about you and Bo. She was so horrible, baby, I can't explain.” He pulls his hands away, still not looking up. “She had a boyfriend, and I wanted to get back at her, since I'm a stupid fucking petty asshole. So… so we went back to her place. And you know the rest.”

He finally looks up, and despite the tears, his eyes burn with desperation. Desperation for revenge, for acceptance, for love, an all consuming flame inside of him. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. “I love you. You mean the world to me.” Kuroo grabs his hand, squeezing it, never breaking their eye contact.

Akaashi feels like he’s breaking in half, cracking right down his middle. He wants to watch Kuroo burn, destroy the memories of what they had together, until his heart is nothing but ash. He wants to protect him all the same; wants to wipe away Testurou’s tears and tell him it's alright. He’s selfish, wanting himself and Tetsu to be happy yet not putting any effort in at all.

He tears his eyes away from the comforter (dark gray, a gift from Bokuto- that Kenma had picked out- from when they first moved in) and sees Kuroo still looking at him. He can't meet his eyes, not yet, and he wants to forgive Kuroo, but he can't, not yet, not with anger and resentment and regret burning hot in his chest. 

He pulls his hand away, as much as it hurts, and stands. 

“Keiji?” 

Testurou’s voice breaks. 

“I love you, Testurou. I always will. I just need time to process this.” 

“O-okay. Alright. I can live with that.” 

He’s lying, and Akaashi watches as his hands desperately clutch onto their sheets. 

“I'm gonna sleep in the other room tonight.” 

“Alright. I love you.” 

Akaashi doesn't respond- can't respond, knowing if he does he will end up next to Tetsurou on the bed within the hour. 

So he walks away, walks out of the bedroom despite the heartbreak weighing in his feet, entering the guest bedroom that’s only really used by Kenma or Bokuto. It's bland and the pillows smell of air freshener, not of Kuroo like they should. 

He closes the door, and leaves it unlocked. Kuroo doesn't do well with locked doors. 

Akaashi lays there, staring at the ceiling as if it can spell out the answer to all his problems. He stays awake, shifting, hugging a pillow to his chest so he can feign a sense of normalcy with closed eyes. He pretends to not see the tears covering the sheets and the pillows, pretends not to notice the way his hands are shaking, and pretends not to notice the thumps on his door or the desperate cries coming from just outside, and pretends not to notice his heart breaking. 

He will stay, locked away, pretending, until the flames in his chest are quelled. 


End file.
